


The Day the Over Stood Still

by Integral_of_Awesome



Category: Static Shock
Genre: Cooking, Gen, Humor, Scheming, Sibling Rivalry, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:59:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Integral_of_Awesome/pseuds/Integral_of_Awesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was torture, and Virgil wasn't going to stand for it any longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Day the Over Stood Still

 

Virgil slammed his fist down on the counter, outrage coursing through his veins. This wasn't acceptable; it just couldn't be happening. Of all the terrible things that could have happened, Virgil was sure that this was the absolute, 100%, most terrible, atrocious crime of the century.

Sharon was cooking Thanksgiving dinner.

"She can't do this, Rich. I'll suffer through her watery eggs; I'll even stomach her burnt soups, but I draw the line here. I won't ingest another one of Sharon's Thanksgiving day disasters. I just can't do it again."

Richie was lying back on Virgil's bed, mindlessly tossing a zap cap up in the air, throw-catch-repeat. "I don't know, V. Maybe you're overreacting just a _little_ -"

"There is no overreacting," Virgil said, leaning down to get close to Richie, fire burning in his eyes, "when it comes to Sharon's cooking."

Richie sat up from the bed, lazily pushing his glasses back up his nose as they slid down. "I feel your pain, bro', but what can you-"

Virgil jumped to his feet, lips twitching into a devilish smirk. "I know exactly what I can do! I have the perfect plan."

To say Richie was a little hesitant would be like saying the Roman Emperors were a little dysfunctional. "What is it?"

Virgil cast a quick glance over his shoulder and crept toward the door like he thought he was a ninja. He snuck a glance out into the hall, assuring that no one was eavesdropping, and then eased the door closed. Scurrying back over to Richie, the roguish gleam grew brighter in his eyes, and his excitement began to mount.

"We're going to stop Sharon once and for all and save Thanksgiving."

 

* * *

 

Richie was against the plan. Of course, he would do whatever he could to help Virgil succeed, but he just wanted to go on record saying that he was against the plan, that he didn't expect it to work, and that he would be making fast tracks when this all blew up in Virgil's face (which would almost definitely be before sundown). He decided to tell Virgil so.

"I don't know what you're talking about, man," Virgil said, leaning easily against the counter as Richie tinkered with the stove. Virgil was supposed to be keeping lookout, but Richie wasn't sure how much lookout-ing was actually happening. Not much, he'd wager. "This is foolproof."

"Hey, V?" Richie asked, drawing his fingers quickly back with a hiss when two of the wires he'd been tampering with gave off sparks. "Have you ever noticed that whenever you call a plan 'foolproof' it almost always _fails_ to succeed?"

Virgil didn't respond, but Richie could _feel_ electricity thrumming in the air. Richie couldn't tell if it was because Virgil was nervous, excited, or annoyed.

Honestly, Richie should have left when Virgil started sounding like a paranoid mental patient, but he was Virgil's best friend, and what were best friends for if not helping out with insane schemes that were ultimately doomed for epic failure of the worst proportions?

"Listen, V, are you sure you want me to do this? It's not too late to turn back."

"No, Rich." Virgil's voice was solid as a rock, and the dry determination freaked Richie out a little. "It has to be this way. This is _the only_ way."

 

* * *

 

They managed to finish their business in the kitchen before Sharon showed up to shoo them out of her "sacred space" with a spatula so she could "whip up a delicious Thanksgiving dinner".

From there, Richie's part of the plan was complete, and he wanted to make a speedy get-away for the purposes of being as far away from Sharon as physically possible before Virgil's devious plans fell through on him, but Virgil would see none of that. He insisted Richie remain present in case "by some magical twist of fate" something were to throw a wrench into Virgil's "flawless plan".

So, Richie found himself, against his better judgement, still in the Hawkins house five hours later when Sharon's harpy screech pierced the air. Virgil's smile in the face of the noise was just not even fair. And also possibly psychotic.

"Virgil!" And suddenly Sharon was standing in the door, smoke all but billowing out of her ears. "I don't know how, but I know this was you."

"Well, this really seems like a family moment, so I'll just be-"

"Sit down, Richie," they both said, at the exact same time. And if that wasn't going to give Richie nightmares for the next month!

"I can't imagine what it is you're talking about, dearest sister of mine," Virgil said sweetly, innocently. He'd never been so transparent.

"Virgil Ovid Hawkins, don't you dare joke with me, boy. This is Thanksgiving dinner, and you are intentionally sabotaging me."

"Sharon, I really don't know what it is you're talking about. Care to enlighten me?"

Richie hadn't thought it was possible for Sharon to get _angrier_ , but, boy, was he wrong. Her face was turning at least four different shades of red, and Richie was sure that wasn't strictly healthy.

"The oven, Virgil.-" now it was five, even six "- _The oven_. I see you and your little nerd sidekick-"

"Hey, I resent-"

"Shut up, Richie," the siblings once again cut him off sharply. And, yep, he was definitely going to have nightmares about this.

"-lurking in _my_ kitchen today, and now the oven-"

Virgil smiled up at Sharon, blinking sheepishly through his eyelashes. He was laying the Virgil-charm on thick, and the Virgil-charm was pretty _thick_ to start with. "What exactly is wrong with the oven? Perhaps I could take a look at it."

Sharon snorted viciously. "Of course you know that'll be no use to me _now_. We're supposed to eat Thanksgiving dinner in two hours, Virgil. _Two hours_. My turkey was suppose to have been cooking for the last _five hours_. What exactly are we supposed to do now? Thanksgiving dinner without turkey."

"The turkey didn't cook. Well, shouldn't you have noticed-"

Richie decided that he might as well try to save his skin one more time. "I really think I should be-"

Then, Sharon was glowering down at him with all her unbridled fury. "If you so much as _hint_ at leaving this room one more time-"

Richie gulped audibly and was only saved from further berating by Virgil, his saving grace (even if it was Virgil's fault he was in this situation in the first place).

"-that the oven wasn't working? Don't you have to set those things?"

Sharon was back to glaring at Virgil, nostril flaring (just the right one, like it did when Sharon was _really_ mad), and Richie felt only minimal relief at not being the direct target of Sharon's wrath anymore. "Of course you do, Virgil, but everything appeared to be in working order. The turkey just didn't cook, and that's why I'm just sure it had something to do with-"

"Well, what do you know. That's an awful tragedy, Sharon."

"Awful tragedy my-"

"Say, didn't you mention something about Adam and Thanksgiving earlier?"

Sharon's anger evaporated almost instantly, the way it always seemed to when Adam's name was mentioned. "He did extend an invitation."

Virgil smiled wider, shooting Richie a look of glee that Richie was pretty sure should be illegal. Maybe it already was. "And I bet he has turkey."

Sharon gazed dazedly into the distance for a few more seconds before violently snapping herself back to the present. Her eyes narrowed at Virgil. "I'll give him a call, but don't think this is over, Virgil. Not even for a minute."

 

* * *

 

And that was how Richie found himself sitting beside Virgil as he and Sharon glared at each other across Adam's table. He'd tried to escape multiple times during the trip across the city, but Virgil and Sharon had boxed him in unforgivingly. It had been terrifying and had only been made worse when Mr. Hawkins seemed almost as uncomfortable as he was.

Death grip turning her knuckles white, Sharon viciously sawed through her meat, and Richie didn't need any imagination to picture _Virgil_ under that knife instead. He wondered idly if Sharon would cut all the way through her plate into the table, like that one scene from _The Incredibles_. Somehow, Richie thought she could do it.

For his part, Virgil was expressing his anger with significantly less violence, but he was smirking like a cocky bastard, and Richie couldn't help but think that the longer Virgil gave that look to Sharon, the worse their punishment would be, and Richie knew there was a punishment coming. Virgil might have been dull enough to think he would get away scott free, but Richie knew better. Richie always knew better these days.

"Would someone please pass the mashed-potatoes?"

Richie was pretty sure they were the first words spoken since Mr. Hawkins had said grace, and he found that he really loved Adam in that moment (because, honestly, Adam was _Rubber-band Man_. Since when did he need _anything_ passed to him?). When he realized that no one was reaching for the mash-potatoes and that he was, actually, closest to them, he reached tentatively forward and grabbed the bowl.

It felt heavier in his hands than Richie thought it had any right to, and he was pretty sure every pair of eyes watched as the bowl slowly passed from his hands to Adam's (although, the weren't sitting next to each other, and Richie was pretty sure Adam had to use his powers to get them, anyway).

Then Adam put his hand over Sharon's (Richie wasn't sure if the look on her face after that was disgusting or sort of romantic, so he didn't analyze it too thoroughly), and Richie felt like it was his duty as Virgil's best friend to try to ease him up a little, too, so he glanced over at Virgil's plate and said, "You gonna eat that, V, or do you want me to take in off your hands?"

After that things went smoother, but only marginally, with Adam and Richie on a near-constant mission to make Sharon and Virgil calm the hell down. Richie would have been more irritated at Mr. Hawkins for not doing _something_ to calm his children, if he didn't realize that Mr. Hawkins had had to deal with this stuff _all the time_ when Virgil and Sharon were kids, and maybe he deserved to be cut a little slack.

Then, as they approached the end of the meal, Sharon's face morphed from a look of utter loathing to this self-satisfied smirk, almost identical to the one Virgil had worn. Finishing off her pie and placing her fork on her plate, Sharon spoke up, "Virgil,-" her voice was very firm "-since Adam was so kind to accept us as guests into his home and since it was _your_ fault we had to come here in the first place-"

"Hey!" Virgil exclaimed, but Sharon held up a hand to silence him. Richie was pretty sure the only reason the hand worked was because Virgil, oblivious as he could be, had also noticed the look growing on Sharon's face and decided that he could only prepare himself for whatever came next if he _knew_ what was coming next.

" _You_ can clean up the dishes."

Virgil made a indignant noise, but after _much_ arguing and a disturbing amount of name-calling, it was agreed that it _would_ only be fair if Virgil and Richie (and Richie didn't know when _exactly_ he'd been lumped into that group) would do the dishes.

"Anyway, it can't be that bad," Virgil was saying as they brought their dishes into the kitchen. "All we have to do is toss them all into the dishwasher. No problem."

Then suddenly Sharon was there, leaning against the door like she owned it and _them_ (which, admittedly, was a little true). "Oh, did I forget to mention?" She took a predatory step forward. "Adam's dishwasher is broken."


End file.
